Emily paced nervously around the studio, checking over the equipment for the fifth or sixth time since she’d arrived. She’d set up a small CD player and had been playing This Velvet Oblivion’s music on repeat, finding herself almost bursting with inspiration. She’d been in the studio since early in the afternoon, creating a small set that would give vision to the music created by the band. Now, as the final minutes passed before the appointment, she savored the familiar tug of excited tension that came before the creative process.

She gave the room one last approving look before turning to go out into the main office. She was surprised when she saw Mary was waiting just inside the studio, listening intently to the music.

Mary: “You’re going to have to burn a copy of these for me; they’re really good.”
Emily: “Both of them are really inspiring. I can’t wait to do this shoot.”
Mary: “I want to see the pictures as soon as possible.”
Emily: “Of course! Are you working in the studio tonight, then?”
Mary: “Yep! I figured I’d finish up a pair of pieces Stone wanted me to do for some random client, then give you a ride home when you’re done. There’s no sense in making you walk back.”
Emily: “One of these days I’m going to have to buy a car instead of making everyone chauffeur me around all the time.”
Mary: “Don’t worry about it; I don’t mind taking you places. Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know I was around. I’m going to make myself scarce before the band shows up; truces stress me out. Give me a call up in the studio when you’re done.”

Emily wasn’t sure Mary had even made it all the way up the stairs before she heard the muffled sound of conversation from the outer hallway a few seconds before the door to her studio opened.

James: "Hi, Punkin! We dressed up just for you; I hope this is what you had in mind.”
Emily: “It’s perfect, actually.”
Markus: “Where do you want us?"
Emily: "Right through there. You guys aren’t weirded out hearing yourselves play, are you?" Markus: “I think it’s safe to say that James is probably his own biggest fan, and I know Tristan and I like what we’ve done.”
Emily: “Great, because the music is giving me all sorts of ideas for pictures, and it’d be a huge help to have it playing while we do the shoot.”

Emily: "I'd like to start out with a few test shots just to ease you all into this, then I’ll get some group shots before finishing up with some individuals."
James: “Do you need us to make love to the camera or anything?”

Emily smiled widely.

Emily: “Not this time.”

As Emily worked, she felt all her thoughts melt away into nothingness. All that mattered now were a few pieces of glass, plastic, and sub-micron sized grains of silver-halide crystals. For her, the photographic process was something that happened in her subconscious; the second she tried to think about what she was doing, it wouldn't work. It was as if she knew her subject intimately, and was able to capture their true self on film.

After a quick series of shots, she paused, frowning down at one of the pictures she’d taken. Something about the photographs seemed too forced, too obvious.

Emily: "Tristan, are you always so nervous in front of a camera?"
Tristan: "I... am?"
Emily: "These won’t be any better than awkward school pictures unless you can relax. Let me ask you something: what inspired you to create this music? What do you feel when you hear the song again? You don't have to tell me, I just want you to think about whatever it is. Focus on that; try to forget I’m even here."

She waited a few seconds, watching as Tristan’s expression transformed, softening from anxious concentration to something simultaneously peaceful and intense. Without another word, she quickly began taking more pictures.